


Sun & Moon

by Paper_Pluviophile



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Brotherly Love, Cinnamon Roll Papyrus, Complete and Utter Undertale trash, Drabble, Fluff, Like Pap is warm hearted and bright hearted, Monster's hearts glow or have some sort of quality to them in this, Not much but I like how it turned out a lot, Other, Precious, Precious skellies, Sans x Sleep, Short little thing, oh yeah, skelebros, undertale - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-21
Updated: 2015-11-21
Packaged: 2018-05-02 16:23:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5255165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Paper_Pluviophile/pseuds/Paper_Pluviophile
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"There is a sun in the underground. It's a rare thing, in this sweet, shadowy realm of smiling moon faces and silver wishes upon shooting stars that no one can witness. Where is it, you ask? Well, you know how some people seem to have this luminance about them, yes? Their smiles are reflections of beaming happiness in the vast void of darkness and despair, a twinkle in their eyes so aweingly resplendent that you can't help but return such mirth and belief. You trust them as much as you trust the sun to rise each morning. Those certain individuals are the sun, and they are precious. You know such a person yourself, don't you? Or rather, a certain skeleton, no?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sun & Moon

Honestly. It's the eighth time this week, and it's *very* disconcerting how well acquainted Papyrus is now with the simmering scents of cherry embers and potato grease at Grillby's. It's a scent that clings around Sans like another layer of clothing, further blanketed by ketchup stains and musty, out of place chemicals.

Beneath that aroma, however, Papyrus notices as he carries his brother out of the jazzy pub that Sans smells like the moon. Or what he suspects the moon would smell like; knowledge and drawling quicksilver, magic and gravity. Not that he's ever seen the moon - he's only seen pictures and drawings of the celestial object in a couple of San's books, the ones besides the quantum physics textbooks and bedtime stories.

Crunchy snow sinks beneath each of the skeleton's long strides and is imprinted with the marks of his soles; right over the previous steps he'd taken to fetch his lazybone sibling. "What would ever you do without I, the Great Papyrus, brother?" His shoulder blades rise and fall in mimic of a sigh, of course without a reply from the slumbering Sans.

Still. Pap is smiling. The smaller monster adjusts himself with a chill induced shiver and nasal snore, the floof of his just slightly oversized jacket tugged by winter winds.

"I wonder if he is cold? Fear not, dear brother, for I shall be a beacon of warmth for you!" Saying this incandescent saffron swells between the spaces of Papyrus' ribcage and his armor, mirroring in his pupils like specks of sunbeams. The instant warmth of the skeleton's soul, embodied through the illuminant heart under his clavicle, appeases Sans.

His perpetual smile is very content.

"There! Now you shall be perfectly warm and toasty, courtesy of the Great Papyrus." Sounding pleased with himself he glows merrily throughout Snowdin, greeting the other townsfolk with one arm supporting Sans whilst waving and exchanging pleasantries.

Several comment on the other's lazy state of slumber and smile at the two brothers who had simply appeared in town one day. Since that day, so, so long ago, the skelebros have become a daily source of optimism and comedic relief, something that they lacked more than they would have liked before.

Home is welcoming as always. Much better than that diner, Papyrus thinks. It's not that he has anything against Grillby's, per say. More so that it's no place for a heroic, soon to be royal guard and friend to all. The bartender/owner is a swell guy though - more than once Grillby had taken care of Sans during the skeleton's worse days of blue thoughts and the curse of smiling. What sort of brother would Papyrus be if he disapproved of a friend of his that obviously was very good to him?

An atrocious brother, that's for sure. As he is *not* an atrocious brother he attempts to rest Sans down on the couch so the "off duty" sentry could snooze on the cushions pretty much molded to his skeletal shape. However there seems to be a bit of a problem. "Sans…Sans you need to let go of me I'm trying to be a good brother and let you rest. Will you please just cooperate?" Incoherent mumblings and a stubborn grip is his answer. "I guess not. Well, then, I'll just…and…ah, there!"

*bro. bro you're…" Sleep garbled words slip past Sans' yawn. *you're so cool bro." Reposed on the lumpy furniture dipping beneath their combined weight Papyrus nods, his brother still clinging to him like a kid would to a childhood teddy bear.

"I know, I know. Just sleep Sans." He easily succeeds at this, only stirred for the briefest of moments before snoring away back into dreamland once again. Papyrus can't help but smile.

Soon enough the two are both out like a light, both sprawled out as much as physically possible and nearly dangling the side of the couch, a nightlight of saffron in one of their hearts basking them in what might be mistaken for dusk sunshine. If such a thing were to exist in the underground that is.


End file.
